On Tim's Boat
*Tim and Bernard are laying in bed sleeping, limbs entangled as Bernard sleeps on Tim's chest*
*at 3:47am Bernard is awoken*
Bernard, swatting Tim as he is squinting in the dark: Hey grasshopper? Is that a sleep paralysis demon-
Tim, shifting slightly, eyes still shut, basically sleepy mumbling: you wouldn't be hitting me, you'd be paralyzed
Bernard: then I think someone is stealing clothes from our closet
Tim, running his hand through Bernard's hair so Bernard knows he is listening: don't know why, we are the pits of fashion, they should be stealing from Sophie and Louie's closet, or even Tammy and Lauren's closet
Bernard: is that... Robin?
Tim, wide awake now, swiveling his head towards the closet: WHAT?
Damian, standing there in a Robin outfit looking through their clothes in the closet, gathering a pile on his arm: Your father wants you to call him, Drake
Bernard: Robin works for Bruce? Actually, that's not surprising.
Robin, walking out with a pile of clothes on his arm: I am confiscating these *walks out the door*
Bernard:
Tim:
Bernard:
Tim:
Bernard: Guess you could say he was... Robin us.
Tim: You're lucky I love you
Edit: Part 2
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Not the first to say it, but damn can’t believe Galladay really went from toxic yaoi to doomed tragic yaoi.
Alright fellow Galladay trash, where’s the modern AU fix-it fics?
I need to see Gallagher single dad with Misha plus their dog/cat Sleepie falling for entertainment company CEO Sunday. Don’t ask me how they met, fuck it, throw in bodyguard AU Gallagher who works part-time at a bar, boom there that’s how they meet, idk I’m making this up on 3 hours of sleep.
You’ve heard of slow burns, now get ready for Galladay blaze it.
They’re speedrunning the relationship from hate -> annoyance -> mild disgruntlement -> weirdly vibing -> ok wow never knew I needed that in my life -> Sunday is way too ok with spoiling Misha -> ok so we got married -> alright we’re dismantling the government now -> Sunday went to jail for 5 minutes for attempting “peaceful” world domination, don’t worry we (Gallagher) forgave him -> Sunday’s stepping down as CEO to run a coffeeshop idk look someone get him some therapy -> Robin is president now while she still goes on tours -> Misha won an engineering competition while this was all going on
Bottom line: Robin is out living her best life while Sunday is in the back somehow having the most insane week of his life. I have no other notes for her here except that she is happy, and successful, and is Sunday’s last remaining brain cell. She and Misha are having some fun Aunt/Nephew bonding times while Galladay are accidentally-on-purpose committing multiple war crimes.
No, we don’t have time to unpack 2.2 and all its trauma, we cope with modern AU :)
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cough hack wheeze who wants a teeny tiny fantasy au snippet with uhhhh laughingstock Tension. it's like... half a scene! unedited & out of context As Is Tradition
~
“Nothin’ much. I think I’ll poke around nearby towns, shake down some travelers - see what falls into my paws.”
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Barn,” Howdy says. He sweeps aggressively, spreading dirt more than gathering it into the usual neat piles. “Who knows if those ne'er-do-wells are still roaming around the woods - if you and Ed couldn’t take them, what makes you think you could alone? Or- or! What if you stumble across those cultists? I hate to think of you stuck in an ambush with no help coming, knowing fully well that-”
A large paw slips the broom out of his grip and sets it to the side, and Howdy stammers to a stop as Barnaby crowds him against the bar with a soft, “Howdy.”
Howdy swallows hard, bracketed on each side by strong blue arms. The look Barnaby fixes him with dries up his well of words and bristles his fuzz. Howdy’s heart hammers against his ribs. He can feel Barnaby’s body heat, and it’s lighting his blood on fire.
“I’m not gonna be reckless, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Barnaby says. He barely needs to speak louder than a whisper for Howdy to hear him loud and clear. He smells like sweet smoke. “The other day was a one time deal, cross my heart. But, if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll take someone with me. I’m sure Jules is itchin’ to get outta town.”
“What would really make me feel better is if you stay,” Howdy blurts, just barely reining in the with me. He tenses, knowing that he’s toeing a dangerous line. One wrong word, and he’ll make the unspoken spoken - but the stress drains out of him as Barn’s eyes go soft. Perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad. Of course there’s no reason to worry, not about this, not with him. There never has been.
“You know I can’t do that,” Barnaby murmurs. “Not yet.”
Howdy doesn’t need to say that he knows. Not for the first time and with any luck, not for the last, it clicks in his mind that they’re on the same page - he doesn’t need to be a telepath to understand the thoughts behind Barnaby’s dark eyes.
Barnaby says it anyway. “I gotta get him back. I can’t… there’s no room for anythin’ else right now.”
Howdy sighs through his nose and slumps against the counter digging into the small of his back. He nods and adjusts the lapels of Barnaby’s vest. His fingers ghost over soft blue, and Barnaby doesn’t flinch at the contact. If anything, he leans the barest millimeter into it. His gaze burns into Howdy’s, even if they aren’t meeting at the moment, but it isn’t a bad feeling. Quite the opposite, actually.
“Well,” Howdy says in a low voice, “if you find a good lead, send for the rest of us. I’ll be there as fast as my four legs can scamper.”
Barnaby smirks. “Even if you need to take a boat?”
“Even so, Barn.”
The smirk slides into something that isn’t a frown, but isn’t a smile. It’s too soft for a grimace, but too intense for simple recognition. Barnaby seems to sway forward, and Howdy is sorely tempted to meet him halfway.
But Barnaby’s claw taps the counter, and he pulls away before anyone’s mind can be made up. Howdy’s hands slip from his lapels, brushing against fur as they fall and knuckles skimming over the smooth, fresh scar cutting across Barnaby’s belly.
“I’ll be back before you know it,” Barnaby says, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He squeezes Howdy’s shoulder and then his back is turned, and he’s leaving. All Howdy can do is watch.
And call out after him, “Your table will be open and waiting for you.”
Barnaby pauses in the doorway and looks over his shoulder at Howdy, and his grin is so full of affection that Howdy may just burst.
“With a free pint?” he asks.
“Hey now, don’t push your luck pal.”
Barnaby bursts out laughing, and Howdy can hear it even after the door thuds closed.
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